


This Is What I Want

by clarecartwright



Category: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel
Genre: AU, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarecartwright/pseuds/clarecartwright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight months into their relationship and is it wedding bells they can hear, or not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Should Marry That Girl

_"You should marry that girl."_

Douglas had heard this said to him countless times over the past few months. From Muriel. From Norman. From Madge. The people he worked with, Akram. In the beginning the _only_ thing preventing him from doing just that was the small matter of his divorce. But now that it had gone through, now the ties to his old, unhappy life were finally forever severed, now that there was nothing from stopping him, he suddenly found himself pausing to think. Not because he  _didn't_  want to marry Evelyn, oh no. He wanted to marry her more than anything. He'd find her and marry her in a million lifetimes given the chance.

There was a certain element of fear, however, surrounding the question. And it wasn't just his fear either, he could see that in Evelyn’s eyes whenever they were alone, dining together, dancing together. It wasn't hard to spot. It didn't offend him either because he completely understood. Could they really do this, now? Of course the answer was a resounding yes, but that didn't stop them both feeling like it would end up the anticipated no.

"Of course she wants to marry you, don't be such a fool."

Muriel Donnelly had always had a way with words, and a particular compassionate knack. And trust her to know exactly what he was thinking – it tended to boggle his mind how she could do it so often and so well. The woman herself was sat now at her table, sorting through some papers, hardly casting a look Douglas' way. It took him a moment to focus and realise it was he she was speaking to, even though it was plain to see there was no one else around, and certainly nobody to which that sentence would be appropriate.

"Sorry?" Douglas said.

"She would marry you, you should ask. Spend your life free from regrets, so forth," she carried on, her eyes skating over written word. 

"Heartfelt, I must say," he smirked as he ran a hand through his hair. He took a glance at his watch – Evelyn would be here soon. It had been months but still, seeing her after work was his favourite part of the day, still caused a flurry of butterflies at seeing her step through the arch, still set his heart aflutter when he saw her beautiful smile widen as she spotted him. God, he was so in love with her.

Muriel sighed, put the papers that were dividing her attention upon the desk and finally turned to Douglas.

"Look, she loves you. Even a blind fool wouldn't be able to miss it. Just as he couldn't miss that you feel exactly the same. Now, you ask her to marry you, what's the worst that can happen? She says no? Oh that's possible, even probable. But her reluctance will give way once she realises there's nothing worth being scared of. Marriage ensues, everybody’s happy."

Douglas contemplated her words as she promptly returned to her work, resolving then and there that _obviously_ a proposal was on the cards, definitely. All he needed to do was to decide on a perfect way, the perfect time. It was at that moment he glanced upward, just as Evelyn emerged through the arch of the hotel entrance.

Suddenly, any inhibition seemed to melt away and all he wanted was to get down on bended knee right at that moment, as if the pull of gravity were becoming too great, as if it were willing him on. She stood there, as beautiful as she always was; hair glowing in the light, blue eyes shining, and that smile growing wider as their eyes met across the courtyard and sparked fireworks in his stomach.

He felt his own smile stretch until his face could pull it no further and instead of giving in to the pull of spontaneous proposal, he simply got up from his seat and bounded over to her. Upon reaching her, Douglas took her in his arms, span her about a little before pulling her in for a deep kiss, his love for her irrepressible.

Evelyn smiled into the kiss, her hands running up his arms whilst Douglas' own had found their way to Evelyn's jawline, gently tugging her as closely as he could. As ever he didn't want to let her go, but he managed to nonetheless, making sure to keep her close.

Evelyn's eyes, which had been closed in pleasure throughout their kiss, opened and – Douglas was happy to see – were slightly dazed by the unexpectedness of it. They quickly refocused to find his and her bottom lip was taken between her teeth as she smiled.

"What was that for?" 

Douglas shrugged as though it were obvious. It  _was_  obvious. She just liked to hear him say it.

"I love you." 

"Good thing too," she said as she put her hand upon his cheek. "And you'll be pleased to know, I love you."

With a smaller, gentler kiss, that didn't lack any of the passion that had driven the first, they began walking hand in hand through the hotel and Muriel watched them go, a glad smirk upon her lips.

_You should marry that girl._


	2. The Width of an Eyelash

"Sometimes, it seems to me, that the difference between what we want and what we fear is the width of an eyelash."

Both Muriel and Evelyn had been sitting in companionable silence, casting their sight over the colourful, lush madness of the party unfolding about them. Silence, until Evelyn had spoken up that is. It had only been a few moments before when Muriel had clocked in Evelyn’s features the look of deep thought over something and there was no question in Muriel’s mind what – or should she say  _who_ – that something was. So it wasn’t a shock when Evelyn decided to reveal as such – in her typical cryptic fashion. Cryptic, but not so obscure Muriel couldn’t get a grasp on what her friend was on about.

And Muriel almost cheered because of it, because of this long awaited revelation. Almost. Instead she merely presented an air of indifference, even going as far as pretending she’d not heard a word Evelyn had said. It was a rather impressive act if Muriel said so herself. How long had she waited for this moment, for Evelyn to realise she needn’t be governed by fear when it came to the thought of marrying again, and what Evelyn had just said gave her enough to know that it wouldn’t be posing much of a problem anymore. It was just as well Douglas hadn’t dropped the question just yet.

"I'm so sorry, were you talking to me?" Muriel questioned innocently, apologetically.

Evelyn, quickly realising her carefully considered remark had slipped by unnoticed by her friend, stared at Muriel a little irked. It certainly wasn’t as if there was anybody else she could have been talking to, unless Muriel had thought she’d finally lost the plot.

"I don't know why I tell you anything," Evelyn muttered as her attention promptly returned to the party. It was a spectacular affair: the lights, the decor, the atmosphere. It was glorious and, being organised by Sonny, typically a little over the top, which made it doubly spectacular. In fact, it made her all the more excited for the wedding which was now only a few short days away. Over on the dance floor some of the guests had started to dance; lithe, young bodies perfectly in sync with the beat of the music. Evelyn could remember a time when she could dance as gracefully. Although, whenever they danced, Douglas did always tell her she still did so now. It was funny – whenever he told her things like that, she could never manage to disbelieve him.  

"No do go on dear, I'm listening," Muriel implored, shifting herself so that she was facing Evelyn, now keen to look attentive. Evelyn glanced at her from the corner of her eye. When she made no attempt to comment, Muriel did so instead.

"Let me guess: you've _finally_ realised that just because you're nervous about marrying again, it doesn't mean it can't also be what you want," Muriel raised her eyebrows pointedly, knowing very well that she wasn’t wrong. Evelyn, still side-glancing her, betrayed no hint of a reaction until, after a moment, she spoke.

"It's true – I  _don't_ know why I tell you anything... because you seem to always know what's going on in my head anyway," Evelyn rephrased her previous admonishment with a defeated sigh. "You're right of course."

"Of course I'm right. Marriage is only a document in the end, Evelyn. How you feel about each other, how much you love each other is what really matters. Putting a ring on your finger and being legally joined in holy matrimony with someone is not going to change that. It's just going to make it..." she waved her hands about, momentarily stumped for words. "Dramatically official."

Muriel shrugged and Evelyn laughed as she teased, “You old romantic.”

“And he's  _never_  going to let you down. You know that. We _all_ know that. So, nothing to worry about," Muriel concluded, taking a sip of her white wine as she turned back to watch the merry crowds. Evelyn looked down as she thought for a second.

"But what if  _I_  let  _him_  down?"

"Oh, tosh! Absolute codswallop," Muriel reassured, causing Evelyn to give a small smile.

"Well I _have_ had enough time to think and – as long as he wants to of course – I’m ready to say yes now."

Muriel rolled her eyes; quite frankly both their lacking confidence in themselves was getting tiresome.

" _Of course_ he wants to! I don't think he's wanted anything else since he was rid of that ghastly woman."

"Ghastly woman? Wouldn't be talking about yourself there Muriel, would you?" Douglas crept up from behind them, a cheeky smile wide on his face. His focus was instantly upon Evelyn, and he gently placed his hands upon her shoulders, which were shaking with her laughter. The rest of the world didn’t exist to him when he was with her, Muriel thought. Evelyn reached up to put her left hand to his right, fondly caressing it ever so slightly.

"Certainly not, you cheeky buggar," Muriel replied in an outrage that was belied by the playful mirth in her eyes and the hint of a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. "You need to keep him under control, dear."

Evelyn was smiling up at him. Muriel was aware her eyes hadn’t left him since he’d arrived. Eight months and that affection still hadn’t worn off, and Muriel didn’t think it ever would.

"No, I am only kidding," Douglas reassured with a smile. "You okay?"

"Fine," Evelyn replied as a yawn took her. "Bit weary now though.”

"Well, I think the rest of the gang are heading back now, we'll join them," Douglas suggested as she began to rise from her seat. She looked up at him, straight into his eyes and he was stunned by the intense affection burning within them. 

"Good idea," she leaned up to kiss him at the corner of his mouth. He felt her linger, spotted her eyes flutter shut as she did so. "I'll just say a quick goodbye to Sonny. Are you coming back yet Muriel?"

"Maybe in a bit, you go on ahead."

"Okay." Evelyn focussed again on Douglas. "I'll be back in a minute."

As she stepped off to say her quick goodbye to Sonny – who she'd spotted by the dance floor with Sunaina – Muriel looked up at Douglas and waited until Evelyn was out of earshot.

"Is it wishful thinking to hope you’re not going to leave it much later, Douglas?" she enquired, knowing he'd follow what she was saying.

He watched Evelyn for a moment before replying, an adoring light in his eyes, a smile touching his lips. Muriel was beginning to wonder if he’d actually paid attention, when eventually he replied.

"Oh, don't worry," he patted the pocket of his jacket. "I'm set."

She grinned and offered him a nod of approval.

"If ever there was a perfect night to do so, it would be tonight," she dipped her head toward Evelyn who was laughing heartily at something Sonny had said. It was true – Evelyn was in the perfect mindset now. "You have a good sense of timing."

"Do you know something I don't?" Douglas looked at her with a curious smile.

"Nothing at all." 

At that point, Evelyn returned and took Douglas' proffered arm, cuddling up as close as she could, partly because of a chill evening breeze, mainly because she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms tonight.

"Off we go then."

"Evelyn!" Muriel's call seized their attention just as they were about to wander away. She was offering what Evelyn assumed was intended to be a pointed look to her as she added, "Don’t forget. Just a piece of paper."

With that, Muriel's attention quickly deserted them, perhaps eager to escape the glower of disbelief Evelyn was now delivering to the back of her head. When she turned she was relieved to find that Douglas seemed quite bewildered. He shared an unsure smile. 

"What was that about?" 

"To be quite honest, I rather think she's had a tad too much wine.”

 • • • • •

Tonight was  _the_  night. The night to finally ask the question that had been precariously balancing on the tip of his tongue for weeks. A question he’d been constantly managing to reel in before an impromptu reveal. But now he had everything ready and prepared. Nothing, absolutely nothing was going to stop him from proposing to the love of his life tonight.

The pair of them had almost reached the hotel along with Norman, Carol and Madge. Norman looked a little light–headed and didn't seem to be walking in an entirely straight line either – maybe Muriel hadn’t been the only one who’d had a mite too much to drink, Douglas thought to himself. Norman had his hand at small of Carol's back, guiding her with him along his vaguely woozy walk. She didn't seem to notice the touch, but as long as Douglas’ relationship was anything to go by that simply wasn't the case. Both he and Evelyn cherished every touch, every casual brush of skin, even if they didn't outwardly show it. They didn't need to, they both knew, however subconsciously. He noticed now, how Evelyn was huddled as close as possible as they walked arm in arm and how reassuring and content it made him feel to feel her there.

He could also feel the light pressure of the small box in his pocket, and his lips were lifted into a small smile. He really didn’t think he could wait any longer. He thought about the balcony outside their room which he’d decorated with flowers and surrounded with candles, a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice waiting on the table. The exhilaration and happiness – and dash of nerves! – were all bubbling together within him, barely suppressible. Unconsciously, he pulled Evelyn in closer.

"Beautiful night," he caught Evelyn’s murmur at his shoulder. She was gazing up into the deep inkiness of the night sky, punctured by the cold light of the stars and swathed in a film of silver by the moon. He nodded and looked down into her eyes, which perfectly mirrored the beauty and depth of the skies.

"It never ceases to amaze," he kissed her temple, as the group rounded a corner, the hotel rearing magnificently above the buildings around it, tea lights glittering in the lattice windows, the building shimmering silver under the pale light of the moon. Home. "Now, shall we have a drink on the balcony, alone? It doesn't seem like we've had enough time with just the two of us today?"

"Yes, that would be nice," she grinned up at him before resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she revelled in the blissful ecstasy of how happy he made her. Sometimes she didn't think it could be possible.

The hotel was quiet, silenced by the night as they all ambled along the pathway toward the arch of the entrance. It was only when they got closer to the courtyard did the hush begin to dissipate, but for quite whose accountability, the group were not yet aware – the hotel should have been free from guests after all. It was the mumblings of chatter and the clinking of tea cups on their saucers that disturbed the night. And quite suddenly, as they all passed into the courtyard, one of those nameless voices loudened as it directed itself upon a particular member of the group.

"Dad!" 

Madge, Norman and Carol came to an abrupt standstill as soon as they stepped into the courtyard, stunned when they realised who it actually was sitting at the table. Madge’s gaze merged from one of astonishment to one of concern as she cast a quick glance backward towards Evelyn and Douglas, who had been so caught up with one another, still hadn't realised. Their obliviousness didn’t last long enough, however.

At the word, Douglas pulled apart from Evelyn ever so slightly, causing her own attention to be brought to the owner of the voice. She was striding toward them, long blonde hair swaying with her walk. She had a smile on her face but her eyes flashed at Evelyn, still upon Douglas' arm, with a mixture of question and judgement. Evelyn parted from Douglas, giving him the freedom to welcome the girl who, Evelyn assumed, was his daughter. Douglas felt the loss of Evelyn upon his arm and he tried to give her a look of apology for Laura’s blatant caginess, which Evelyn missed.

"Laura?" 

Laura tugged him into a strong but brief hug, which he reciprocated – the tiniest bit half-heartedly, due to his confusion about such an unanticipated appearance.

"And… Mrs Ainslie," Norman added grimly.

And at that moment, Evelyn couldn't recall another instance when her heart had dropped so viciously.


	3. Old Crumbling Ruins

"What a ple–, um," Norman faltered with his words as he promptly recalled that it wasn't much of a pleasure at all. "What a _surprise_ it is... to see you here, again."

"Why _are_ you here again?" Madge inquired bluntly.

Jean offered a smile brimming with forced civility.

“Well, I just couldn’t resist the chance to come back and visit the old crumbling ruins… and see how the hotel was doing as well!” she chortled a little excessively at her own joke, quite unaware of (or simply choosing to ignore) the unamused frowns she was accorded. Douglas on the other hand, was stunned, the only emotion recognisable on his face that of confusion. Evelyn, who had stopped just behind him, was already beginning to wish she was somewhere else. Jean hadn’t been back in their lives _two minutes_ and already she’d managed to sap the night of its carefree feel. ~~~~

Jean’s gaze, barely repressing its enmity, swept from Madge to Norman to Carol until finally falling upon her ex–husband. It didn’t go unnoticed by Madge how her gaze hardened, and how it positively turned to stone when Jean caught Evelyn at his side. Madge had quite forgotten how dislikeable this woman could be.

“Douglas,” her mouth was smiley but her glare was icy, reproachful as she acknowledged him.  _I'm sure he hasn't missed that,_ Madge thought, his expression proving it incredibly true. Evelyn moved forward a little, instinctually resting a hand upon his arm, assuring she was there for him, mutely checking he was all right. 

Jean scrutinised her as she did so, watched as he actually relaxed to her touch and Madge was oh so pleased to see how Jean clearly bristled.

Evelyn noticed too and immediately regretted her action. Unlike Madge, she wasn't enjoying riling Jean quite so much. The touch wasn't meant to be an act of possession or dominance or anything silly like that, but of course that's how Jean interpreted it. 

"And Mrs Greenslade," Jean flashed that soulless smile. Douglas tensed and Evelyn wanted nothing more than to escape. "Still happy to be the reason a married man has strayed, I see."

The irked retorts mingled together in a cacophony of outrage.

" _Mum_ ," Laura hissed. 

"Jean!" Madge warned sharply. Suddenly pressing Jean's buttons no longer seemed quite as fun.

"We're not married anymore, Jean," Douglas' reply beginning confident and strong, got lost between the other reactions, but was mostly waned under Jean's glower. Quite suddenly it was as if all those months apart simply hadn’t happened, like they were married all over again.

"Well, that didn't stop her when you  _were,_ did it?" She was still smiling as if this were all friendly repartee.

"That is quite enough, Mrs Ainslie."

Muriel, appearing out of the blue, strode through the courtyard, immediately (with an expertise rounded to an art form) defusing the situation.

Her unflinching stride took her directly to Jean, whose morale had noticeably recoiled since Muriel's arrival. It seemed not even Jean Ainslie could challenge such an indomitable force.

"It would do you well to remember there are a few things _I_ could say concerning loyalty and  _yourself,_ Mrs Ainslie, so be sure to think well before saying anything more that you might regret," she flashed an unfeeling smile that would brook no argument, raised her eyebrows pointedly, glad to see Jean almost instantaneously decide to back down in a flush of crimson.

"Now, I think it's high time we all retired. You know us senior citizens; need plenty of time to reserve our energy for something as extravagant as a wedding,” she said, tone saturated with sarcasm.

“Speak for yourself,” Madge muttered, passing a smirk to Carol beside her.

“Only two days to go – so hop to it."

Muriel’s line of sight shifted to Douglas and Evelyn, to who she gave a slight nod, before turning her attention back to Jean.

"Mrs Ainslie, and..." she looked expectantly at the younger stranger who seemed a little bemused by the whole affair.

"Laura. Laura Ainslie."

"Of course. If you two would be kind enough to follow me, thank you. Goodnight all."

And with that she was away, not even bothering to turn back to make certain Jean was indeed following. But Jean knew better than to defy the requests (orders might be a more appropriate word) of Muriel Donnelly. Even Laura – who had not even known the woman a full five minutes – had already decided it best not to cross her. She quite feared her mother had already managed to.

Jean sheepishly trailed after Muriel, the humiliation plain as day on her face. As she passed the group, she barely gave Norman, Madge or Carol even a ghost of a glance. Instead, her energy was solely focussed on shooting a final scowl toward Douglas and Evelyn.

Evelyn supposed it was meant to imply something, to make them feel rotten for what they'd done. But what had they done? Nothing. Was it not Jean who had returned to pick a fight? Jean’s accusations rung in her ears, got her thinking, and yes, maybe she  _had_  had feelings for Douglas whilst he had been married (what was she thinking – there was no  _maybe_  about it) but she certainly hadn't acted upon it, and neither had he, nor would they ever have thought about doing so. And then Evelyn realized that Jean had already got her overthinking, had managed to make Evelyn feel guilty over nothing in particular; and now Evelyn was trying to find something to apologise for when it was the last thing she needed to do. No, she had done absolutely nothing wrong. And Jean wasn't going to guilt-trip her into believing anything else.

• • • • •

Douglas was subdued during the return to their room, thoughtful. Evelyn studied him, concern agleam in her eyes. He hadn’t been this quiet – that unhappy kind of quiet – for a long time. Trust it to be Jean bloody Ainslie who brought it back.

It was hard for Evelyn to comprehend a convincing reason Jean would have for coming back, if not to cause trouble. And she'd sure managed that.

Evelyn was still looking at him, thoughts of worry dashing through her mind, when he angled himself towards her. He smiled weakly and Evelyn could see an apology in that smile as if he was at fault for something.

"Are you okay?”

"Oh I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about. Are _you_ all right?"

He shrugged his shoulders faintly. 

"I don't like how she speaks about you," he said, his eyes occupied with his shuffling feet. "And I just... don't quite understand why she's here."

"Not to give her blessing, that's for sure,” she laughed lightly.

They arrived at their room. Evelyn stepped through, tailed closely by Douglas. She could feel his gentle guiding hand at the small of her back. She was about to ask him whether he thought Jean would be staying at the hotel or elsewhere (she hoped the latter) when a peachy glow, radiating from beyond the doors to the terrace, arrested her attention.

Douglas too caught where her focus had been taken and suddenly recalled the incriminating evidence of his planned proposal; the champagne, flowers. Such a major distraction had made the proposal now almost laughable to carry on with, and after such a surprise, the things he’d laid out had slipped his mind.

As she edged closer to investigate, Douglas watched and waited in the doorway. Evelyn saw the table, usually bare and unremarkable, soaked in the soft, amber blush of tea–lights. A bunch of roses, a silky burgundy, reared elegantly from a glass vase, petals of the same shade scattered artfully across the tabletop. Next to the vase was a bottle of chill champagne swimming in the remnants of ice.

"I was, um, just..." Douglas began as he looked on remorsefully at the display. Evelyn managed to drag her eyes away from it, a hand at her chest.

"Oh Douglas," she spoke quietly as she glanced back at him. His shoulders rose and fell fleetingly once again, a shrug of apology. 

"I was just..." he repeated. He almost considered telling her that he'd been ready to propose, but quickly recognised that he didn’t want to be _telling_ her, he still wanted to be actually proposing to her right at this moment. But he knew that neither of them would appreciate it now, as things were. It needed to be special, but it didn’t feel special with Jean suddenly breathing down their necks. "I just wanted to surprise you."

Evelyn's head tilted slightly, sadly. Because she understood. She knew what Jean's visit had ruined tonight. _And she'd been so ready for it._

She took a step back toward him, raised her hand to his cheek, brushed her thumb against his cheekbone. She felt him lean into her touch. And she kissed him, softly, unhurriedly. Telling him wordlessly that she knew what he'd been planning to do, telling him that she'd been ready, thanking him for making such a fantastic effort, sorry that said efforts had been for nothing (for tonight at least). Their eyes were closed when their lips parted. Douglas had grasped her hands within his, and they leant their foreheads together, remaining that way for a while.

"It'll be perfect next time, I promise," he murmured.

"I know," she answered tenderly. "Though I do not doubt that it would have been utterly faultless tonight, if not for some unforeseen circumstances."

"I'm sorry," Douglas began, but Evelyn quickly intervened.

"Don't you dare apologise.  _None_  of this is your fault," she told him, looking firmly into his eyes. "No, you should have stopped apologising for her the second you started."

Her hand found his cheek again and she caressed it soothingly, before letting it fall back to the sanctuary of his hand and tugged him gently back into their room. "Come on."

They prepared for sleep in comfortable hush, both eager to settle into each other's arms. It spurred them to ready as quickly as they could. Once they'd done so, Douglas took his spot on the left side of the bed throwing his arms wide to take Evelyn into a warm embrace, finally a content smile on his lips once again. A smile she touched with her own before settling with her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers tracing patterns on his pyjama–clad chest.

Laying there, she let her sleepy gaze wander until it fell upon the battered red telephone sitting on the desk beneath the window, illuminated with silver. Her mouth twitched into a smile as she remembered how that little phone had brought about her first conversation with Douglas when they had arrived at the hotel. Remembered how he'd made her laugh properly in, what had seemed at the time, months. It wouldn’t surprise her if she’d begun her tumble into love at that moment. A small giggle escaped her as the memory played out to the point where Douglas had finally admitting defeat after five minutes of aimless fiddling. This caught Douglas' attention and he smiled curiously down at her.

"What's tickled you?" 

"I was just thinking about your valiant attempt at mending that phone," Evelyn divulged, bobbing her head toward the object. "You know, the first day we all came here."

"Ah yes, I remember. I did do a fantastic job, didn’t I,” he replied jokingly.  

"You made me laugh more than I had in a long time," she thought a moment. "Who knew we'd end up here, eh?"

"I bet Muriel would argue she did," he chuckled, before clutching her tightly to him. "But I'm certainly glad we did."

"Me too," and they descended into a comfortable silence once again, both pondering on how much had changed over just a few months, and how they wouldn't have changed a thing – except perhaps the outcome of tonight that is. Douglas made Evelyn happier than she'd ever been, as she did him. Evelyn thought about how different things could have been if she'd let her son browbeat her into staying in England; quite frankly it wasn’t worth thinking about.

"I love you," she murmured just as the events of the day finally caught up with her, weighing down her eyelids, drawing her into a deep yawn. 

"I love you," he replied softly before laying a gentle kiss upon the top of her head, cuddling in close. "Sweet dreams, love."

But Evelyn was already asleep, dreaming of a night without unwanted visitors, and her Douglas smiling up at her from his perch on one knee, something glistening prettily within a small box in his hand.

• • • • •

The unanticipated return of Jean remained the hot topic of discussion the following morning, as Laura duly discovered on her trip to breakfast. It was Madge, Carol and Norman she caught mulling over the subject as they picked over the remnants of their breakfasts. It was probably a good thing Jean had decided to stay behind, dine in her room.

“Do we know if she’s still here?” Madge queried. The last time they’d seen her was trailing after Muriel out of the courtyard, tail rightfully between her legs. Norman heaved his shoulders up in a shrug, more engrossed by his last piece of paratha, which he popped into his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her, that’s for sure,” Carol answered. “I do feel sorry for Douglas.”

“And poor Evelyn. But I just don’t understand how Jean could stand there and accuse them both of infidelity, as if she had been any more loyal. Hypocrite I say.”

“Sorry, what’s that?”

A mousy, yet assertive voice disrupted their discussion from the entrance, to where their attention was promptly focussed on Laura Ainslie, twiddling with the charms on her bracelets. Her question wasn’t as terse as they all imagined it could have been, merely curious.

Norman shuffled uncomfortably in his chair at being caught gossiping about her mother, but Madge was not so concerned.

“It’s Laura, isn’t it?” Madge queried, splashing a friendly smile upon her face as she motioned to the empty seat at their table, which Laura gratefully accepted. “I’m Madge. This is Carol, Norman. You are staying at the hotel then.”

Laura gave a bob of her head as she settled into the chair, offering them all a smile of greeting. Madge decided to get straight to the point.

“Quite the drama last night, eh? So, where are you positioned in all of this, with Douglas and Jean?” she asked, not remotely bothered whether it should or should not be her business to ask. Laura had essentially asked for the conversation anyway.

“Um,” she looked thrown by Madge’s forwardness, but quite marvelled it too. “There’s been no side–taking if that’s what you mean. I’d always known there’d be a final tipping point really, so it hadn’t been much of a surprise… but what were you saying a minute ago – about Mum being a hypocrite? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Well, you heard her last night, talking as though Douglas had been unfaithful – furthest thing from the truth. He was painfully loyal right to the very end,” Madge told her. Laura nodded in agreement; she too had found it hard to believe anything had happened between Douglas and Evelyn whilst he’d been married, simply because he wasn’t the type to.

“Douglas and Evelyn didn’t look for love; it just crept up on them. Jean on the other hand, well. There was another resident here with us at the beginning, Graham – he died – but she was chasing after him practically from the very beginning. That’s what I meant by her being a hypocrite.”

Although it was obvious to them that Laura hadn’t heard of Graham before – so Jean hadn’t been too keen on revealing that part of the story – she also didn’t seem particularly surprised by this information.

“Ah, that’s my mother! Not an uncommon occurrence actually, it just became part of their lives. And I told him, I told him a million times that this wasn’t doing them any good, that they both needed to move on, but he always acted as though it were nothing. And there was no getting through to Mum.”

It was quite a relief to the group knowing Laura had indeed not taken sides, in fact she seemed to have had a better grasp on the nature of her parent’s relationship than her parents themselves had done. There had also been the concern, in Madge’s mind, that Jean could have painted the situation quite partially to Laura, but that didn’t seem to be the case. If it was, Laura seemed to have taken none of it.

“It still seems a bit odd that Jean would come all this way to just seemingly condemn her divorce, act as if it’s the last thing she wanted, and treat Evelyn as if she’d ‘stolen’ her husband?” Carol piped up. “Was that really the reason she wanted to come back?”

“Well, she said she wanted to visit, have a chat, but I’d never imagined her being quite so unpleasant… up until that point she’d seemed pretty over the divorce.”

“I think she probably still is…” Madge said, because the best way she could understand it was that this wasn’t about Jean wanting Douglas back, or any of the things she’d caused them all to believe, but more to do with how she’d failed to cope with the aftermath. Douglas had succeeded in stumbling upon love again, succeeded in being happy. And she was envying that happiness and only saw fit to destroy it as long as it couldn’t be hers too. And Jean couldn’t stand Evelyn for the simple reason that she was making Douglas happier than she had ever done. Jean had come back and caused trouble, simply to make her feel better about the situation. Of course Madge couldn’t be sure she was right, but it probably wasn’t far from the truth. It was certainly _an_ explanation as to why Jean hadn’t been as hospitable as Laura had first assumed she might have been. Madge peered at Laura who was just starting her breakfast.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying Laura, but in everyone’s best interests, including Jean's, I don’t think it’d be a good idea if she stayed too long.”

Laura contemplated this as she chewed.

“I think you’re quite right. To be honest, if I’d known she’d only come here to be a nuisance I’d have done my hardest to dissuade her from coming in the first place. As it is, I’ll have to do my best to persuade us to leave,” she smiled as if she wasn’t looking forward to that particular chat. “Oh, and I don’t suppose you could show me where I could find Mrs Greenslade – I feel quite awful for last night, I didn’t give her the warmest of greetings.”

“I’d be happy to,” Madge grinned.

After that, there seemed a wordless agreement to leave the topic of Douglas and Jean to rest, instead talk turned to Laura’s first experience of India – it was safe to say she more like her father than her mother.

• • • • •

When Douglas awoke, he was determined. By his side, Evelyn was still consumed by a deep sleep and he didn't wish to wake her. After such a late and eventful night, she deserved a lie in. And the hint of a smile lighting up her sleep–slackened face convinced him that she was having too sweet a dream for him to interrupt. So he kissed her cheek as softly as he could as to not waken her and dressed himself in a hush as quiet as he was able. Before leaving, he wrote a small note. This, he then rested upon the mug (Evelyn’s favourite) which he’d already laid out, teabag too, where she was certain to see it – it was their morning ritual to have a cup of tea as soon as they could upon waking.

The letter read:

_Morning beautiful,_

_Off to sort this as quickly and as best I can_

_Love,_ _Douglas_

 

Finally, he set the kettle to boil, readying the water just in case she woke up soon. With that – and a quick stolen glance at her curled up in the sheets – he took off from their room with single-minded strides, absolutely adamant that he was going to sort things out that morning, at the very least ensure Jean realises where he stands. But after such a determined start, he was disappointed when it came to an abrupt halt in the courtyard when he realised he didn't actually know where Jean was. He slowed and chewed his cheek in thought, looking about hopelessly.

Muriel. Muriel Donnelly, she would know where Jean would be. Now, just to find Muriel.

This turned out to be an unproblematic task because, as if she'd heard his inner plea, Muriel appeared from an archway bringing her into the courtyard.

"Ah," he began. "Morning." 

"Douglas, don't bother me with courtesies," she snapped, but not unkindly. "She's back there."

She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder back the way she had come, evidently twigging the reason for his early morning venture and eager for him to get on with it.

"You let her stay here?" he queried out of interest – he hadn't been entirely sure she would. And Douglas hadn't wanted her to really. 

"Well, it makes it easier to get this over with quickly, does it not? The problem's not going to be solved simply because she's in a hotel down the road. And I'd be a fool to turn away good business," she replied in her typically terse manner.

"True," he said, understanding and agreeing with all she had said. By the irritability present in her tone though, Douglas assumed that the ‘good business’ hadn't been a particularly easy customer. "So, through there?"

He gestured to the doorway. 

"Yes," she affirmed as she began to walk passed him. Before she left him to it, however, she touched his arm gently, lowered her voice. "And please, get her to leave quickly."

He tittered lightly as Muriel smiled tiredly before carrying on her way.

Douglas took a deep breath and followed her direction. He felt his confidence deteriorate slightly which each thwack of a footstep as he went. When he rounded the corner and spotted Jean, the beat of his feet stopped altogether and with it took the last shred of resolve he'd built up that morning. He shook himself.  _No, he could do this_. 

She hadn't spotted him just yet from her seat outside what, Douglas presumed, had been her room for the night – no sign of Laura. Douglas watched for a moment as her mouth turned down in an unimpressed scowl after biting into something she'd obviously gotten from the restaurant for breakfast. He shook his head faintly. Her head snapped up when he said her name and, if anything, the scowl darkened. It surprised him to feel such a reaction from her not give him as much hurt as it once did. It rather went over his head. To be honest, it almost made him laugh.

"I think we need to talk," Douglas began tentatively, not sure himself how this conversation was going to pan out. She studied him.

"What about?"

"Your behaviour last night might be a start," he suggested whilst she rose from her seat, not wanting to feel looked down upon. His reply had left her quite astonished, this forthright Douglas clearly one she was unaccustomed to.

"My behaviour?" she spat questioningly, as if it were a ludicrous suggestion that her conduct had been anything less than civil. 

"Yes, your behaviour. You had no right to say such things to Evelyn," he pushed, more than a hint of irritation evident in his tone. Jean flinched at the name as if it were contagious, which only succeeded in riling Douglas further, his clenched fingers the only outward sign of his impatience.

"I'll speak as I like," she tried, holding her head up haughtily, only to be swiftly shot down by Douglas.

"No," Douglas warned snappishly. "Not about her you won't, not in front of me. Not in front of anyone as a matter of fact."

With that her arrogant demeanour made a hasty retreat as she understood this wasn't the man she'd left behind all those months ago. This wasn't the man she could brush off as simply as she once could, he wasn't going to yield to her as he always had. But she kept her head high; unconvincingly trying to create the pretence that she’d deflected the comment. She awaited him to carry on the conversation in sour silence. When he blundered for a moment as to what he was going to say next, Douglas swore Jean's eyes actually glittered with spite.

"Okay Jean, so just tell me. Why have you come back?" was his next topic, he decided. "It's pretty obvious to me, to everyone I think, that it wasn't to pop-in for a cheery catch up."

Jean was silent.

"We both need time to adjust, to move on. And being in the same place isn't going to help either of us. Our marriage has ended, you were happy enough with that the last time we talked over the phone. You  _were_ the one who suggested it!"

"Well, maybe I made a mistake," she said, and even before the words parted her lips, she knew she didn't mean them. Douglas laughed disbelievingly.

"We both know that's not true," he said softly with a sudden pang of sympathy for his ex-wife. To be honest, he didn't know what else he could say to her. Whatever he did say wasn't going to get a productive response, just a silent stare, so he resolved to leave the conversation there with a kind but final piece of advice.

“Listen Jean, I can’t force you to leave and, of course, I won’t. I’m just telling you that whatever you think you’ll achieve by being here, might not work out quite as you expect. Of course, if you believe you truly came for a harmless catch–up, stay. But somehow, I don’t quite believe that’s true.”

He tried a smile, which fell upon an expected scowl. Despite the hostility though, Douglas could see the faint glimmers of acceptance in Jean's eyes. At least he hoped it was. "So stay, if you think it will help you, but I doubt it will."

Jean stared at him, silent owing to the Douglas she saw before her. The same man, yet different. He really, truly had managed to move on, find happiness, just as she hoped she would do. And it seemed Evelyn was good for him. Not that she'd ever admit such things to him. Instead she simply threw her head back once more, smiled that false smile in a last stand of defiance and told him, "I appreciate that Douglas – not that you're right of course, but it's appreciated all the same."

Her dismissive reply lacked the punch that they used to have, because Douglas could see in her eyes his advice hadn't been as dismissed as she'd like him to believe. He shared another small smile. He might have offered her a hug if she wasn't so bloody proud but instead he turned to go.

"One more thing," Douglas added, swivelling to face her a final time. "Apologise to Evelyn."

Her features twisted, almost involuntarily. 

"Apologise?!" she asked, incredulous. 

He didn't say anything, just stared at her, waiting.

Her shoulders eventually slumped once she recognised it as an order rather than a request. The faintest of nods, barely discernible, was all she offered. With that Douglas finally withdrew, a weight pleasingly lifted from his shoulders. He relaxed. He was happy with himself.

Jean watched him until he'd disappeared from view, kicking herself that she would never have the strength to ask for his forgiveness too.

• • • • •

It was the feeling of something amiss that eventually woke Evelyn, not ten minutes after Douglas had gone. With closed eyes, she ran a hand across the soft plane of the sheet to her left only to find a vacant pillow. Drowsily she cracked her eyes open, acclimatizing to the sunny morning gleam tumbling through the windows. A cursory glance about the apartment proved what she already knew to be true; that Douglas wasn't here. She sat up, placed her feet on the chill linoleum floor and hauled herself from the comfortable haven of the bed. As her tradition dictated, she padded her way to the kettle and flicked the switch setting it to boil. At the tail end of a yawn, her attention focussed on the mug already waiting patiently for her coming, teabag and all. Perched upon its handle, a note. Her brow furrowed as she unfolded it. She skimmed the words written in Douglas' charmingly scruffy scrawl and her mouth lifted into a smile. She wondered how long he'd been gone. She put it back on the tabletop just as the water came to the boil in a ferocious din of bubbles.

She poured the steaming water into the cup, watched as the milk she added swirled into the dark tea-stained water, mesmerized by the plumes rocketing to the surface until the drink settled to the pale tone of wheat brown. As she waited for the drink to brew, her mind drifted to the night before, to Douglas' wonderful preparations. How she wished they could have been able to enjoy them. Imagine how different the night could have been if a certain someone hadn't decided to say hello. Evelyn didn’t actually think she’d even said hello at all. Evelyn shook her head regretfully. All she wanted now was that question – something she had been unsure of at first, was something she felt she couldn't go another day without. But was only going to come when Jean had left.

Jean bloody Ainslie. All she hoped was that Jean would _listen_ to Douglas, and not use it as an excuse to stay just to spite them. The snide comments she could handle, but waiting any longer to say yes to him, almost impossible. Evelyn sighed as she took the teabag from the mug, deposited it into the bin. So deep into thought she was, she didn't catch sight of Douglas as he returned, so allowed him the chance to surprise her. He snuck up behind, wrapped his arms around her waist, put his lips to the curve of her neck.

"Morning," he purred as Evelyn, initially startled by his arrival, melted into his arms. Grinning, she turned in his arms, put her own about his neck. "Got my note?"

"Yes," she glanced down at where she'd put it, then thought about where he'd just come from. "How did it go?" 

He looked her in the eyes a moment, before letting his sight fall to the floor. She felt his shoulders slump.

"Good... okay..." his reply was unsure, every bit of his positivity about his chat with Jean disappearing as quickly as it had come. The more he replayed the scene in his head, the more he felt as if it had done nothing beneficial. And he just didn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially Evelyn. He reflected on it another second, before his hands were to his forehead in despair. "Oh, I've probably just made everything worse! I have, I've made it worse."

Evelyn looked up at him, kind eyes willing him to not be so hard on himself. Her gentle hands were to his own right away, taking them away from his face, kissing his knuckle.

Disheartened eyes found hers.

"Don't you even think it," she told him softly, but resolute. "Not for a single second."

He smiled, always amazed by the depth of her compassion, reminded of the million and one reasons he’d fallen in love with her and put his arms about her again as she leant into him, her cheek nestled into his shoulder. Her hands rubbed soothingly along the length of his back.

"Tell me what happened," Evelyn asked, pulling back to look at him. Douglas nodded and they moved to sit on the sofa, Evelyn bringing her tea with her.

"Well, I began by saying it had been wrong of her to speak to you like that," he started.

"I'll bet she didn't like that."

"Unfortunately so," he smiled that smile, the one that meant he was sorry. Goodness knows how many times he'd used it when he was not to blame; it was a compulsion – especially where Jean was concerned. "Then, I asked her why she had come back – seeing as it's obviously not for a catch up. She didn't answer. And I think after that it was mostly 'we need time to move on' and how being in the same place isn't going to help. Then she said maybe she'd made a mistake with the divorce, but she didn't really believe that."

Evelyn was listening attentively, sipping at her tea, wondering at what point he was supposed to have done anything inadequately. It seemed to her Douglas had managed to make his view quite clear, something which might never have happened before his separation.

"Then, because she wasn't really in the mood to talk, I just ended by telling her to stay if she thought it would help, but it most likely wouldn't," he concluded his summation, looking up at Evelyn through his lashes, apprehensive for her response, worried he'd proved her backing wrong.

"That sounds perfectly reasonable to me," Evelyn told him, placing her hand on his which turned over the hold hers. "And if she's not willing to listen to the perfect sense you are making, more fool her."

It was with that, Douglas began to cheer up, confidence slowly regaining, his needless moment of self–doubt slipping away. Doing well by Evelyn was enough for him.

"Let's just forget about this now, for the morning, let's go for a walk. We'll go to your favourite cafe, have breakfast," he suggested, jumping up from his seat. "Let's not allow her to bother us a moment longer."

"Good idea," she beamed and swigged the last of her tea. "I'll just get ready."

She paused.

“Actually… maybe a little assistance wouldn’t’ go amiss…” she said, fiddling coyly with the topmost button of her pyjama top.

Douglas raised an eyebrow.

“Well, of course,” he smirked as he followed her into the bedroom.

• • • • •

It had just gone midday when Douglas and Evelyn arrived back in the hotel, smiles afresh on their faces, as if Jean had already left. It was upon their return that Madge discovered them, arm in arm, giggling together like nothing had happened last night. _Good for them_ , she thought. Laura was beside her.

"Looks like some of us are having fun," Madge said to her, loud enough to catch the pair's attention. Grinning broadly at Evelyn and Douglas' compelling glee, Madge glanced at Laura. She was looking at her father as if it were a side to him she'd never seen, as if on no occasion had she known him so at ease or happy. She'd certainly never seen him so in love, of that Madge was certain.

Douglas spun when he caught Madge's comment, his smile lifting even further the second he spotted his daughter beside her.

"I'll leave you to it," Madge mumbled to the younger Ainslie, and excused herself.

Unlike the previous night, when he’d been dazed by the surprise of her sudden drop in, and then side-tracked by Jean, this time round he welcomed his daughter into his arms the way he should have done.

"Hey Laura," he said, squeezing her tight, feeling her return the squeeze with matching fervour. "How're you doing, darling?" 

"Great Dad, fantastic," she told him.

"And how's Gemma? You two okay?"

"Yes we're doing great. Really, really great," she couldn’t keep the elation from her voice and the smile she gave whilst talking about her girlfriend was infectious. She glanced bashfully down at her toes before adding enthusiastically, "You know, I think there may be a, um, proposal on the horizon? I think. Maybe. I hope. One of us will anyway. Depends who breaks first."

She bit her lip in an excited smile, looking to her Dad, the light in his eyes and warmth of the smile touching his lips enough to show how beyond happy he was for his daughter.

"Well, I'll look forward to the wedding invitation," he told her eagerly, reaching across to give her arm a tender squeeze. "Listen, I'm sorry we didn't get chance to speak last night, but let me introduce you."

He put his arm about Evelyn's waist and tugged her gently forward from where she had been standing back politely whilst he had greeted his daughter. 

"This is Evelyn," he beheld her, the proudest gleam in his eyes, before returning his gaze to Laura, apprehensive. Evelyn murmured a small hello with a shy smile. Laura flashed a perfect set of teeth in a wide grin as she held out her hand, perfectly opposite to how she'd reacted the previous night, that questioning judgement absent from her eyes. Evelyn grasped the proffered hand, shook it gently.

"I've heard all about you, of course," Laura told her. "Practically all Dad emails me about."

The women grinned up at the man who smiled shyly at his shoes, catching Evelyn's gaze through the corner of his eye. 

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"And you," Evelyn replied. A thought popped into her mind then – that without this girl she and Douglas would never have met and that most certainly made this a great pleasure indeed.

"Where's your mother?" Douglas queried out of curiosity, scanning around half expecting her to be sat in a corner somewhere, sights trained in a sour glare.

"Oh, she's in the room I expect. She refused to come out even for breakfast, so."

Douglas nodded. Apparently Jean really hadn’t changed much. Unfortunately.

"Um, shall we go to the garden?" he asked.

"Sure," Laura agreed enthusiastically – she’d already become quite fond of the garden.

"I can go, if you'd like me to? Leave you two to talk," Evelyn offered, imagining they might want to catch up and didn't want to impose. Douglas looked at her as if that were out of the question.

"No, do come along," Evelyn was surprised when Laura spoke up. "Please Mrs Greenslade.”

She nodded her grateful acceptance, tentatively taking the crook of the arm Douglas had offered, still remaining a little reluctant to intrude despite their encouragement. Douglas reassured her with a wink.

Laura was so keen that Evelyn stay of course, because it was who Laura wanted, needed to speak to most.

The stroll to the garden was short, charged with chatter about how Laura was doing, what the business was getting up to now, all the things father and daughter hadn't yet had a chance to catch up on. They were just getting onto how much Laura had come to adore India – even in the brief time she had been there – when they came to the garden. Once there, they made their way to the bench sitting lonely and slumped in its old age. Evelyn perched herself on this weather-beaten bench, whilst just across from it Laura took the hanging seat suspended from the tree’s sturdy boughs.

Douglas was still standing when he decided that perhaps it could be a good idea to leave his daughter and his (hopefully) wife-to-be alone together; give them a chance to chat between themselves, get to know one another, or whatever else, completely unaware he would be doing Laura a favour.

"You know what, I think I could just about murder a cuppa tea, anybody else?" he asked cheerily, awaiting answers from them both.

"I think I could too, thanks," Laura agreed, smiling up at him. Evelyn too accepted the offer.

"Super. I'll go fetch us all a brew then, won't be long," and he was striding off back toward the hotel, leaving the two women in a moment of faintly awkward silence. Evelyn's smile was faltering with her uncertainty as to how to strike up a conversation. It was a relief that Laura was not so hindered.

"I can see why Dad likes it here, it's gorgeous!" she started enthusiastically, glancing at the sun-parched grass surrounding them glowing golden in the sun, a stark contrast to the shimmering bottle green of the tree above them. She looked as well to the walls of the hotel, scarred black by the many monsoons that had plundered the earth each season, giving the hotel its charmingly aged appearance. After her quick marvel at the building, her line of sight turned back to Evelyn.

"It certainly is," she answered quietly.

Laura paused, inspecting her fingers toying with the charms on her bracelet, before deciding to take a page out of Madge’s book and get straight down to it, unwilling to make little of the time window her father had given them.

"Look, Mrs Greenslade–"

"Evelyn," she smiled encouragingly.

"Evelyn. I just wanted to say, to apologise really, about last night and any discourtesy I might have shown you. I certainly didn't mean it. I bet it was the last thing you wanted – after Mum dropping in on you so unexpectedly too."

"Oh, my dear, don't you worry yourself."

"It's just, I guess, it's far easier telling your parents they should move on than actually  _seeing_  it happen. It was a shock I guess, but doesn't excuse such an offhand introduction."  
Evelyn dipped her head in appreciation. 

"And what I said earlier was true; he doesn't email me about anything else. I haven't seen him this happy since... since I don't know when. I'm happy for him, for both of you. As long as it's what you both really want…”

She finished her sentence with an inquiring look. Because even though she was sure it wasn’t going to be a problem, something inside Laura wanted some kind of confirmation that her Dad was going to remain as contented as he was at the moment; that Evelyn was just as devoted as he was. And most importantly, that they weren’t going to end up in the same situation that he and Jean had been shortly along the line.

Evelyn, having worried over these things a million times over, understood at once what it was Laura was trying to infer. And _having_ stewed over them so many times, she’d since realised that this wasn’t just a _fling_. She was in love with Douglas unconditionally and as long as she was – which would be always as far as she was concerned – then there would be no need for herself or Laura to worry about how things could end up.

Upon impulse, Evelyn put her hand lightly on Laura’s.

“There is nothing I want more,” she told her firmly, with a smile. “Don’t worry.”

Any further conversation on that subject was at that moment cut short by the arrival of the man himself, a tray of tea cups and biscuits cradled in his arms. He grinned up at them as he shuffled closer and laid the tray down on the table.

"Okay, milk two sugars for you dear," he nudged he mug across the table in his daughter's direction, as he did with Evelyn's. "And, a little milk for you."

**• • • • •**

It was perhaps half an hour later when Evelyn insisted on leaving them alone to talk; they hadn’t seen each other in months after all. And no matter how polite Laura was, both of them knew she’d love some time alone with her dad, not supervised by a stranger.

Father and daughter watched her leave, Laura with a look of admiration for the stranger who had enchanted her father’s heart, whilst Douglas’ was completely mesmerised by her even as she was leaving, the corners of his mouth twitching with a faint smile. Laura turned to him, still not quite used to this smitten version of her father, but happy for it all the same. She stood up to join him on the bench. Evelyn now out of view, his attention was entirely focussed on her.

“You look happy,” Laura told him.

“I am,” was his simple reply.

“Does that mean wedding bells on the horizon then, eh?!” she said jokingly. Douglas responded with a raise of his eyebrows, all of a sudden scrabbling about in his inner jacket pocket. Out of it, came a box.

“Well,” he sighed as he placed the box softly – as if it were his most delicate possession – on the bench between them. He eyed it thoughtfully. “I _was_ going to drop the question last night as it happens, but you know, with your mother turning up… kind of ruined the mood, didn’t feel right.”

“Oh Dad, I’m sorry,” she apologised, realising just how much their visit had forfeited.

“Don’t be silly, it wasn’t your fault. It was just bad timing, no one could have known. There’ll be another chance, oh there _will_.”

Laura pondered for a moment, glancing at him through the corner of her eye.

“Are you really sure though? It _has_ only been a few months since the divorce after all. You’re not going too… quickly, do you think?” Laura asked – not disapprovingly, just wanting to be sure that _he_ was sure.

“Laura, I’m not young anymore, and wasting time is a young person’s game. Only time itself can teach you to appreciate it. ‘Seize every opportunity before it’s gone’ becomes somewhat even more appropriate when you, ahem, get older."

Laura laughed a little and bobbed her head, putting her hand over his.

“Don’t you go forgetting my invite then,” she beamed pulling him into a tight, affectionate embrace. She added quietly at his shoulder, “Probably a good idea if I can encourage Mum to leave as soon as possible then… even if that does mean I have to leave too.”

“Oh, then I can _definitely_ relax,” he said, closing his eyes mock–blissfully, receiving an admonishing tap on his forearm in return.

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“No, of course I don’t want you to go,” he clarified.

“But I will. For now. Anyway, I want to see a lot more of India before we go home.”

“Maybe I can show you a bit more of Jaipur’s beauty first – walk?”

He stood, dropped the ring box into his pocket – promising to himself that the next time he took it out would be for no other reason than putting the band upon Evelyn’s finger – and held out his arm for his daughter.

• • • • •

When Laura approached her mother in the late evening to advise they should move along on their trip in India, to tell her that they shouldn’t want to hassle everyone just two days before a wedding, she was hardly expecting Jean to accept or accept as readily as she did.

“You’re right, we don’t want to outstay our welcome,” she had responded nonchalantly whilst stuffing some clothes in her small travel bag. “We’ll be off tomorrow, to Mumbai as we planned – I hadn’t been intending to stay long anyway.”

Now that, Laura knew, was far from true – Laura was very well aware her mother could have stayed as long as she liked if she set her mind to doing so, which she probably had done when she’d arrived. This willingness to go that her mother had suddenly adopted Laura found almost impossible to believe.

“Okay…” she replied after a few moments of stunned silence, mouth hanging slightly agog. “Tomorrow then?”

“Yes,” Jean replied absentmindedly before changing the subject. “I think it’s time for dinner, come along.”

“Okay,” Laura could only repeat as Jean swept passed her to the dining hall but she followed, pleased her job had been done for her. She trailed her mother’s lead until it brought them to the dining hall, illuminated the colour of marigolds in the shadow of the evening. A glow that lit up the faces of those already convened at the tables. There was a slight hush, which of course Jean took no notice of.

Madge – who Laura gave a small smile – Norman and Carol were sat together just in front of them. Sat alone at the back perusing a menu was the American, Guy Chambers, if Laura’s memory served. Muriel was the only one absent. In the centre, Douglas and Evelyn, grinning at each other, fingers interwoven upon the table. Douglas was brushing his thumb across her knuckle. For an instant, it seemed as though they were completely lost in each other, the world a million miles away. Well, they _were_ until they too became conscious of the additional diners. Evelyn’s smile abandoned her and instinctively she began to withdraw her hand, as though she’d been caught. But Douglas stopped her in her tracks, gently pulling her hand back, nodding reassuringly.

Jean had come to a halt and even though Laura was behind her, she could tell who her scrutiny fell upon.

_Ah, shit,_ Laura thought to herself, aware that Jean could very well be triggered into wanting to stick around.

She was about to put her hand to Jean's arm, snap her out of it, but Jean was already on the move, purposefully but steadily weaving her way through the maze of tables.

"Evening," she greeted them all with a polite smile that couldn't have been less authentic. Her greeting was acknowledged by two of them at most. That Guy wasn't even paying attention. "I thought you'd all like to know that Laura and I shall be checking out tomorrow morning – off to explore Mumbai."

"Won't that be a pity," Madge muttered under her breath. Laura caught the comment and stifled a smirk – she loved her mother, of course she did, but she was fully mindful of the fact that she was also a handful, a little rough about the edges and certainly undeserving of the respect of the company of people here.

Upon receiving Jean’s announcement, Evelyn glanced at Douglas. Douglas looked right back. Both quite disbelieving of what they were hearing.

Jean carried on passing by all the tables, until at last came to theirs. Evelyn seemed vaguely terrified. Douglas did not loosen his hold of Evelyn's hand, even though hers was itching to get away. She felt as though she'd been caught again, like they had the day of Graham's funeral. She'd very much like to avoid the embarrassment of that a second time, but she could practically hear the accusations already gathering at the tip of Jean's tongue, all scrabbling to be the one issued first.

"Mrs Greenslade." 

_Here they come..._

"I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night." Evelyn's eyes widened and she allowed her jaw to slacken, leaving her mouth agape for a fleeting moment. "What I said was rude and completely unwarranted. I hope you can forgive me."

The silence subsequent was thick, formed, quite simply, from everyone’s surprise. Everybody was paying keen attention. Even Muriel Donnelly – who had decided to join everyone – was studying the events unfold, quite entertained. Evelyn on the other hand was dumbfounded as she once again glanced at Douglas, who squeezed her hand ever so gently. He didn't seem as stunned by Jean’s sudden change of heart, but there was still a sense of surprise in his features. Even a hint of admiration. The silence stretched on as Jean seemed to be waiting for an affirmation, which at first Evelyn could only provide with nodding. It took a second to engage her voice.

"Of course."

"Good, and let me also say this: I wish yourself and Douglas every happiness."

With that, she turned and took the seat furthest away from them, close to the American who had only that second sensed a disruption in the evening’s atmosphere. Laura followed Jean, giving Douglas and Evelyn a wink and thumbs up as she passed.

Evelyn reflected for a moment, staring at the spot Jean had just been stood, replaying the unlikely scene in her mind.

"D- did that really happen?" she questioned.

"Oh yes it did, it certainly did." 

And Douglas popped the top off of the wine bottle, poured its contents generously into their glasses, he too reviewing what had 'certainly just happened'. More importantly however, he was thinking about a very important something deep in his jacket pocket, more ready now than ever for its reveal. But not quite yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became a little longer than expected..um. Hope ye liked!


	4. This Is What I Want

Night was hailed in by a swathe of rich sitar strings, gentle and serene. A burble of chatter from the great throng of wedding guests offered song to the tune, whilst ceaseless beats were rapped upon the skins of tablas. After a few moments, a silvery voice slipped into the medley, Hindi words carried hauntingly through the air. Wide smiles were illuminated by the gold blush of the lanterns and tea–lights twinkling in the inkiness of the evening. The air was thick with laughter, along with the chinks of glasses being brought together in a clash of celebration. On the dance floor, several guests were making the most of the music, swaying closely in the arms of their partners. Everything was perfect and everyone was content.

Indian weddings were quite a spectacular occasion, exquisite to behold, Evelyn mused as she paused for a moment to just take it in. In the crowds, she spotted the bride, Sunaina – Evelyn didn’t think she’d known anyone in her life of such stunning beauty as her – with Sonny, who was bouncing about her like an excitable puppy. She smiled and her gaze swept further into the crowd until it fell upon a familiar face. And her heart skipped so suddenly it startled her. But then she understood it’d been this certain face she’d been looking for all along.  

Douglas had been stood there, watching her like she’d been watching the crowd, waiting for her to find him. When she had, his smile grew, eyes alight with affection and Evelyn felt herself blush. It was almost without conscious thought that they drifted closer together, looking only into each other’s eyes, the very crowd that had only just been the focus of Evelyn’s attention now forgotten, merely a background detail. When they finally came together, Evelyn’s heart was hammering so hard in her chest she was certain everyone could hear it. And her stomach was alive with nervous flutters. He smiled tenderly as he bent down to place a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. Her hands lightly wrung the scarf draped over her shoulder and she couldn’t help how her smile broadened so.

“So do you,” she replied fondly, at which he chuckled and lifted his eyebrows disbelievingly. But she meant it; he was looking incredibly debonair in his well-fitted navy suit.

He proffered a hand, which Evelyn accepted delicately. She expected him to lead her to the dance floor, but when he took her in the opposite direction she didn't question it. There was a determination in his stride, in the firm but gentle clutch of his hand. It made Evelyn's heart quicken even more. Especially given what she felt sure was going to happen the other night…

Together they weaved through the crowds until there was no longer anyone about and the music and chatter had ebbed to a dull hum behind them.

They’d come to a balcony looking out over Jaipur one way, the lights of the party the other. Douglas came to a halt and, Evelyn spotted, with a deep breath swivelled about to face her. 

“Evelyn,” he murmured.

“Douglas,” Evelyn said softly, a hint of question in her tone. Her bright eyes peering up at him took him for a moment, his breath caught. He’d waited so long for this and right now, enraptured in that curious yet hopeful glance, he was worried he’d be so nervous the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. One more deep breath.

"Okay, so," he began haltingly, eyes fixed to the ground in an attempt to at least get the ball rolling by not getting lost in those eyes again. "Um, I've tried many times to think of a grand speech for this, but to be honest it turned out quite impossible..." finally he let his gaze return to hers, assured now, "... _quite_  impossible to simply put into words how far I’ve fallen in love with you, Evelyn Greenslade."

Her breath was swept from her and already she could feel herself tearing up.  _For goodness sake dear, get a grip!_

"Because I do, I love you, and I probably have done since the day we met."

He paused for a moment, smiling down at her as she grinned shyly in return, hands wringing each other with nervous excitement. After a brief clearing of his throat, he reached into his jacket pocket, shuffling about until he proffered the ring with a flourish and a raise of his eyebrows. Evelyn chuckled, completely overwhelmed with the love she had for him, let alone the depth of his love for her. She remembered how but a week ago she might have been considering a different answer – only temporarily different mind you – still tying herself in knots over a fear of something she didn’t know. But thanks to Muriel making sure she saw sense, she couldn’t believe she had even considered ever saying no, however briefly.   ~~~~

“So,” he said, with yet another deep breath as he finally dived into the important question. “Evelyn, you make me happier than I ever thought I could be again and it would be an absolute privilege, if you would allow me the honour to be your, uhm,” he trailed off with a shy smile, before he said the final word. “Husband?”

_'All it takes is to look into someone else's eyes and say yes'_. That was something Muriel had snapped at her just earlier that day, obviously still insistent Evelyn's back bone remained, and it flitted through her mind at that moment. She smiled widely, and stepped toward him. She held his gaze, he held his breath.

"Yes," she answered quietly, straightening out the lapel of his jacket. "Of course I will."

He released the breath he was holding in a shaky laugh before leaning down as she rose up on her toes for a kiss, curling tightly into one another.

"I love you," Evelyn murmured against his lips. Keeping close, he took her left hand in his and Evelyn watched as he delicately slipped the band onto her finger. Already, it felt like it had always been there.

He looked into her eyes before asking, “Are you sure?”

“This is what I want, Douglas,” she told him firmly, holding his gaze. “I won’t lie; there was a point where I was a little nervous about it, I guess, but I’m very much past that now.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled, before pulling her in for another kiss, running his thumbs over her cheekbones. When they pulled away, they took a moment to simply look at one another and revel on how far they’d come together and how happy they’d become together.

They returned to the party arm in arm just in time for the opening of Evelyn’s favourite song, _Strangers in the Night_. She glanced up at him, eyes twinkling with happiness.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well finally, it's finished! I hope this last chapter's not a disappointment and I hope you have enjoyed it! Thanks to all those who leave/have left kudos and comments, it's immensely appreciated! This won't be the last Douglyn fic I write (hopefully) sooo look out for more! Thanks! x


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